This story is a response to the challenge for today’s December challenge, the final story of the challenge (though certainly not the final Fiction? posting here on the site).  Here’s a link to the challenge post.

“You know, there is just one more present,” you say to me with a gleam in your eye.  I’m not sure what else there could be, we’re just finishing up from a weekend of family, presents and food.  So much food.  So many people.

You lean in and take my ear lobe in your teeth, then whisper…. “You are the last present to me.  I’ll take my present now, please,” and bite down firmly on me.  My first instinct is to pull away, but you have your hands in my hair, holding my head where you want it, reminding not-so-subtly to hold still.  When you kiss me, you pull my lip into your teeth, biting down just enough…

“Change the ring.  Uncage.  Get your ass back here.”  Don’t have to tell me twice.  I’m back in a flash…

Then I hear you almost purring as you nibble down my neck and pull down the neck of my shirt as you latch onto my shoulder just inside the shirt line.  This “pinging” sensation roars across my shoulder, up my neck to my brain – it doesn’t really register as pain, it’s of of an electricity… until you’ve been there a bit, then it turns hot and lastly the pain registers as you bite down on your hickey handiwork.  It sends a rush of sensations across my brain in a flash.  You move to the other side and repeat this, the original now pulsing a bit with this delicious heat and stinging.

You repeat your brilliantly bright-red hickey, followed by the strong bite on the other side and sit back to admire your work.  Then something registers and I see it in your eyes.  You pull my shirt up and off and tell me to lay back.  That you’ve decided that you’ll do one more bit of decorating  – me.

You start at what would be the top … of the tree.  You repeat your marks, each extraordinarily strong, blazing red when you’re done.  Each shooting increasingly straight to my head.  I object, a little, but you keep grabbing me, looking at me when I object and then looking at my cock – the truth is impossible to hide.  It’s driving me crazy.

You’re painting a picture on me.  A tree outline and it’s remarkably complete.  It’s obvious you plan to take your time – to make sure the lines connect and to even add an ornament or two… just for good measure.  About 1/3 of the way through, you pull of my pants and remove the cage and slowly lower yourself onto me as you settle in for the next spots.  It’s mind-blowing, to say the least.

I see you getting more and more into it and, frankly, I FEEL you getting more and more into as well – the hickeys are not as red, they’re a deep, deep purple now and on a few occasions, I know you’ve drawn a bit of blood.  To top it all off, you keep returning to a few to up the marks, and even to my lip to reclaim that for yourself.  But all the while, you’re slowly rocking on me.  Back and forth, slowly, so slowly.

Every now and then you pause with your handiwork and start riding me vigorously, just long enough to claim an orgasm, then return to your artwork on me.  It’s hot as hell to just be laying here, being both your canvas and your sex toy.  I’m doing my best to get completely lost in all of it, hovering on the edge of sub-space and outlandish pleasure.

I know if I chase it, I can get to the sub-space piece of things, but I don’t want to let that drive any accidental release.  I’m doing my best to stay somewhat in control, though I am beginning to pick up on a possible ulterior motive for you – you love to FORCE me out of control, to try to FORCE me to lose it.  To take it from me.  I am beginning to sense this in you… and I’m more and more determined to keep it together.  Or something.

You have more than half of the tree design done now – but the bites, hickeys, marks are deeper and redder and more and more delicious as you go on.  I can see in you too that you’re taking more and more from it.  I’m seeing your attitude change, I see and feel the energy pulling from me, not just being forced into me.  It’s a weird change in the flow and I feel myself being sucked into it.

I also feel myself slipping in control both over the sub-space and fending that off and the impending orgasm.  I’ve has to slow you a couple of times, and have asked once, and all I got was a muttered “mmmmm… uh uh… not now.”  I can feel myself fighting more and more though and with each extended mark episode, I’m getting less and less control.  I had no idea you planned such a complete “decoration” – The lines actually connect and you’re taking your time between each to make sure it is extremely complete.  I’d seen those examples of a heart-shaped marking before, but this takes the cake.

At about 80% of the way there, you start rocking back and forth, in and out on me with a renewed vengeance.  I feel you cumming on me – I feel your insides clench and release, repeatedly over the last bit and those feelings, those contractions and your internal “grip” is frankly getting the best of me.  I’m feeling all my nerves firing, I’m feeling my body giving over to the ouchiness of the marks, your attention, your mood, you wrapped around me and squeezing me, all of it.

I’m squirming, contracting everything I can to control it.  It seems like every time I contract to control though, you bite or suck harder and it breaks my concentration and I feel my body internally lurch forward toward orgasm.  I am fighting so much against it that I’m talking to myself, talking to you and don’t realize it.  Trying to talk myself through it and then I realize I hear you giggling.  You realize you have complete control of me.  You can make me cum.  You can stop me.  You can block it.  All of that – and that’s one of the things you so love in all of this.

“Cum for me, but put it off as long as you can, ” you whisper in my ear – but you don’t change your tempo, you just keep doing exactly what you were, finishing your decoration, riding me – faster, slower, squeezing, driving your self to a couple of additional orgasms.

I can feel it welling up inside me, pushing up, I’m pushing back.  I know of course, that you can sense it too.  You bear down on me, clenching and riding me.  You’re watching my face with this grin on your face – our eyes are locked…

I push it back down a few times, then finally have lost the fight.  I feel it crushing down on me, and just as I’m about to cum and feel like my head with blow a gasket, just as I feel everything inside me make the call to let go, at that same instant, you bite down on me one last time.

My orgasm rips through me with this mix of pain the rush of the orgasm.  It shoots through me from head to toe and back again, back and forth.  And you are basically riding it out, latched onto me, almost consuming as much of the energy as you can.  I feel you start to cum with me and it just prolongs my own as I feel you close around me and eventually just come to rest on top of me.

As we relax a bit, you look  up at me and just say “geez, it’s like putting the star on the tree or something…” and laugh a bit at the near-perfect timing.  You lean back and look at your handiwork. and I can feel the sting all over my chest – the “tree” runs from my collar bone to below my navel and to both sides of my ribs at the widest point – and the lines are nearly perfectly connected.

Getting that shower in the morning is going to be magical.